


if tomorrow comes

by ttamarrindo



Series: faraway, so close [1]
Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Falling In Love, Light Angst, M/M, Time Loop, an obscene amount of dashes, and like 2 pretentious references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ttamarrindo/pseuds/ttamarrindo
Summary: time passes but doesn’t turn. again again again.(alt:hey boy do you want to make a fragile human connection in the vast and unfeeling infinity of a chaotic universe.)





	if tomorrow comes

**Author's Note:**

> 1) this fic drove me insane. 2) style is still me trying to write something worth reading which means i probably didn't succeed. 3) if you're here then thank you for reading. i know time is precious, so. thank you.

train line 6 is, brian’s sure, some awful kind of mistake. 

 

the train is dirty, creaky. cracked windows and broken seats. today: it’s also late. and really, that’s not as much as a surprise as it should be; this particular train line doesn’t seem to keep up with any sort of schedule - not one brian knows about at least, so it’s all a matter of luck if it’ll show up on time or not. 

 

it seems today luck’s not on side. brian slumps against the wall, half-eaten sandwich in hand. there’s a half-scrubbed out pink stain on his shirt from where a slice of tomato fell and stuck to it and it’s all kinds of gross and nasty but well, brian deals. one earbud in and half a mind not quite here, he can’t do much else than resign himself to the wait. 

 

the train comes to a stop before the platform only a few minutes later - fifteen minutes after it should. the wheels screech, the high shrill sound of steel catching on steel and he shuffles in with the same bitter aftertaste of everyday and all the other days to come. 

 

unpredictable as it, not many people take this line. even at morning rush hour, the wagon is empty except for brian, who sidesteps the clump of chewing gum stuck to the floor that's been there for as long as he can remember and takes a seat near the back. 

 

he presses shuffle once, twice, hits one republic but keeps on skipping until another person steps inside. stealing a glance, this is what he sees: blond hair and a body leaning a bit too close to the wrong side of lanky. what catches his attention: too-bright eyes and a guitar slung over a bony shoulder. 

 

brian pasues, watches as the other boy - a bit older than him, maybe. not by much - sits down on the other side of the wagon. he sets his guitar down, looks up, glances around. now embarrassingly aware of the stain on his shirt and his finger-combed hair, brian pretends he wasn’t looking his way and goes back to skip skip skipping songs. 

 

the boy is familiar in the sense that not-quite-strangers tend to be. brian’s seen him around campus before, when he strays too close to the music department and thinks risky thoughts like  _ what-if _ and _ perhaps _ , most of all:  _ someday; _ dares to want but not to do. now, there is that awkward feeling of should i say hello scattered in the air and again, brian thinks risky thoughts like  _ maybe _ but epik high comes on shuffle next so brian decides that staying quiet is better if not best. 

 

it’s another day, the same routine. except this time: metal against metal, the train comes to a grinding halt far sooner than it should have. 

 

the lights flicker onoff offon in the space between one heartbeat and the next. brian looks out of the window but finds there’s nothing to see except for the dirty darkness of the underground; no platform in sight. 

 

back by the end of the wagon the not-stranger makes a sound half scared half surprised when the lights finally blink back on. his grip is tight over the strap of his guitar, knuckles white, and brian feels - something. he thinks about reaching out, pictures two hands slotting together, fingers intertwined. then the pa system crackles with static and a gritty voice informs them mechanically, “ _ the train is currently experiencing some technical troubles. we apologize for the delay. we’ll resume course in a few minutes. please remain seated. _ ”

 

“great,” the boy huffs out. his head hits the window maybe a bit harder than he had intended it to and he winces, shares a grimace with brian who just shrugs back in answer. 

 

he won’t make it to class now. his professor doesn’t let anyone in after the lecture has started. not that brian cares much, really. microeconomics is tedious, a chore, and texting jaebum to take down some notes for him should be enough. 

 

time drags more than passes and (not nearly) soon enough the train shudders once, twice, and starts back on its way. 

 

when they reach their station both of them get up and hesitate near the sliding door because two bodies don’t fit through. staring awkwardly at each other, brian starts, “after you-”

 

“-go on.” the boy tells him at the same time, laughs a little bit shy, a little bit embarrassed, a little bit beautiful. brian watches him shift on his feet and smile a half-smile. the boy offers a quick _well,_ _bye. see you._ and then takes off in the direction of the exit. 

 

hands curling around empty air, brian presses play and follows after. 

  
  


*

  
  


“here.” brian looks down to see a hand holding a few sheets of paper full of a familiar chicken scratch right under his nose. putting aside the bags of chips he had been in the middle of reshelving, he turns to face jaebum, who pushes the stack of papers against his chest, wrinkling them in the process. “the notes,” he says and adds, “for class,” when brian squints at them in confusion. 

 

“right - yeah, thanks.” brian takes the papers, tosses jaebum a can of coke in thanks, and heads back behind the counter to stuff a few bills in the register to pay for it. 

 

“it’s cool,” jaebum shrugs. he waits until brian is done greeting the old grandma who just entered the corner store where he works at after class before he begins to hover; not too close but not too far either. brian gives him a sidelong glance when he hears him clear his throat and cough in the way he always does when he has something he wants to say but knows brian won’t take it well.

 

“you know,” jaebum starts and brian can’t help but sigh. “this whole thing that you’re doing-” he waves his hands around, making the coke slosh over the can and fizz, spilling over onto the counter, “the hiding from your problems thing? it’s not gonna end good for you, man.”

 

“fuck off,” brian replies half-heartedly at best, defeated at worst. and honestly, he doesn’t need jaebum to know that  _ at worst _ is where he’s been stuck for a long time now. but, not one to admit to his problems, especially those he can’t solve, brian grabs the rag he keeps near the register and mops up jaebum’s mess instead. “i’m not running from shit.”

 

“sure you aren’t.” jaebum turns, faces him head-on as he says, “this is only the, what? fourth time you’ve missed class in a month? fifth?”

 

“the train ran late.”

 

“yeah, and before that you were sick and before  _ that  _ you overslept, and before  _ that _ you were sick.  _ again _ . how long are you planning to keep this up?” 

 

the bell hanging from the door rings before brian has to answer. a group of middle schoolers make their way inside, knocking elbows and getting rowdier by the second. “i’ve got customers to take care of,” brian remarks gruffly, hopes that’s the end of it. “i’ll see you in class.”

 

he steps from behind the counter and makes to head over to the two boys messing around with the sunglasses display but a hand grabs him by the arm before he can. brian hears jaebum breath in, say, “i didn’t mean to - i just,  i’m just looking out for you, okay? it’s clear you’re not happy, brian.”

 

“well,” brian bites back, too defensive to be anything but wounded. “we can’t all have what we want, can we.” and it’s no a question. 

 

jaebum looks at him. looks - startled, surprised. sad, though brian figures that last sentiment has more to do with him than with jaebum himself. either way, jaebum’s grip slackens enough for brian to slip free. 

 

he doesn’t turn around; he doesn’t want to see the concern in jaebum’s face because there's nothing to be concerned about in the first place. really, brian’s fine. he’s - content. if not happy. and that’s enough. 

  
  


*

  
  


today, train line 6 is late. 

 

like yesterday, it reaches the station fifteen minutes after it should've. brian skips a one republic song and leans his head against the cracked window as he waits. 

 

before the door closes he rushes in. he, meaning: the lanky boy with too-bright eyes and a guitar slung over one shoulder who somehow always looks like he has places to be. he startles at the sight of brian, covers it up with a half-smile and a quick nod. brian nods back, glad he decided to skip breakfast today so there’s no pink stain on his shirt this time around. 

 

they don’t say a word. it’s another day, the same routine. except this time: metal against metal, the train comes to a grinding halt far sooner than it should have. 

 

the lights flicker. the wagon rattles. then, “ _ the train is currently experiencing some technical troubles. we apologize for the delay. we’ll resume course in a few minutes. please remain seated. _ ”

 

“fucking hell,” brian mutters. jaebum’s pointed words from yesterday rise up like a bad echo. brian sighs, checks the time on his watch. it’s just a few minutes before 9, which means he can still make it to his marketing lecture if he hurries. 

 

it takes a few minutes for the train to start again. by then, brian has watched the other boy check his phone five times and bite his lip about three. he looks worried, brow furrowed and hands shaking lighty but enough so for brian to notice. brian figures he’s late for something he really shouldn’t be and sends him a commiserating look when the train finally pulls up to the station. 

 

confused, almost frightened, wide eyes are the answer he gets in return. brian stares one, two heartbeats too long, then decides he should probably start acting more politely if that’s the kind of answer he gets when he tries to be nice. 

  
  


*

  
  


the door is shut tight when brian gets to class. he knocks a few times, hesitant. he’s late but just by a few minutes and he knows professor lee is not nearly as stern as he’d like to pretend. brian doesn’t think it will get him in any trouble. 

 

when there’s no answer after he knocks a third time and much more louder brian shuffles right to peek through the window, finds the classroom oddly… empty?

 

he frowns. it’s a quarter past nine, class should have already started and he knows he’s got the right lecture hall, too. 

 

he loiters around a while longer, then, when he realizes there’s no one coming, makes his way to the quad. wary, he checks his phone. maybe they had to change classrooms at the last minute. maybe he didn’t get the email, didn’t read it. maybe class was cancelled.

 

from the screen of his phone, today’s date flashes bold red back at him and brian - stops. 

 

july, wednesday 24. the date is plenty clear. brian blinks, blinks again. thinks: it’s also plenty wrong. 

 

wednesday, it reads, as in  _ yesterday. _ wednesday, not thursday like it’s supposed to be. 

 

pressing the heels of his hands up to his eyes brian breathes in. breathes out. he wills the beginning of a truly awful headache away and chooses instead to stop a girl making her way down the quad. 

 

“hey,” he calls out. the girl pauses, turns to look at him in a way that says  _ who, me?  _ brian nods quickly, a bit desperate. “yeah, sorry. could you - could you tell me what day is it?” the girl shoots him a hesitant look, glancing at the phone brian’s still clutching tightly before answering, “today’s the 24th.” 

 

“as in,” brian stops, swallows through the knot pulling tight at his throat. “as in wednesday the 24th?”

 

“yeah. are you okay?” something must bleed into his expression, some kind of panic or doubt or fear, maybe all, because she looks awfully worried all of a sudden.

 

“fine,” brian chokes out. “just - you’re sure, right? wednesday?”

 

“yeah, i’m sure. do you need me to call anyone? maybe you should sit down.”

 

“no, i’m -” in. out. brian breathes in. out. “i’m fine. forgot i had a paper due today, that's all.”

 

“if you say so,” the girl answers, sounds like she doesn’t quite believe him. either way, she doesn't stay long after that. with one last worried look his way, she walks away and brian - 

 

brian just stands there, numb, and thinks: oh. 

 

oh no.

  
  


*

  
  


brian goes to work because what else is he supposed to do. his boss - a cranky old man who watches brian like he has DELINQUENT written in bold letters across his forehead - just grunts at him when brian checks in and that’s so painfully normal brian thinks for a moment that it’s fine. maybe it’s all fine. he must have slept poorly, drunk too much coffee or had too little to eat. it’s fine. 

 

brian is reshelving the bags of chip - he did that yesterday, he thinks, then decides it’s better if he doesn’t think all - when he sees a hand holding a stack of papers reach out for him and a familiar voice say, “here. i took some notes for you because you decided to skip class,  _ again _ .” 

 

“thanks,” brian croaks out and takes the notes jaebum hands him. he stares at them, disbelieving because these are the same notes as yesterday, which means they had the same lecture as yesterday, and then tosses jaebum a can of coke because  _ what else is he supposed to do _ . 

 

the bell rings. an old lady (the same grandma from yesterday actually, wearing the exact same flower-patterned dress as yesterday, too. but that can’t be. can’t) walks in and brian greets her politely enough considering his head is running a mile a minute trying to catch up to time. 

 

jaebum coughs. “you know, this whole thing that you’re doing,” he starts and something leaden sinks into brian’s stomach, gets that much more heavier when jaebum’s cokes sloshes and spills over onto the counter, “the hiding from your problems thing? it’s-”

 

“-not gonna end good for me. yeah, i know,” brian finishes for him and mechanically goes to mop up the mess of coke over the counter.

 

jaebum blinks at him, surprised. then he smiles like he’s a father whose son just behaved better than expected and pats him firmly on the back. “good to know you realize that, man. i’ve been worried, you know? this is like, the fifth time you’ve missed class and-”

 

“jaebum,” brian cuts in. “i think - i think there’s something wrong.”

 

jaebum shoots him a look that could mean many things, brian figures not all of them good. “well, you did turn nayeon down when she asked you out a few days back. you do know every single guy in campus would have killed for that opportunity, right?”

 

“no i-” brian lets out a frustrated breath through his nose. “i think this has already happened before.” 

 

jaebum raises an eyebrow. “you mean you’ve turned a date with nayeon down before?  _ dude,  _ that’s, like-”

 

“no, god - can you stop mentioning nayeon for a second?” 

 

“hey,” jaebum raises both palms, says without really saying: you started it. “you were the one who brought her up.” 

 

“i did not.” brian shakes his head, realizes there’s no way to get jaebum to believe him even if he could get a word in edgewise. he’s not sure he believes it himself, this  _ whatever _ is happening right now. happening again. “just - just forget about it. i think i need to sleep.” 

 

“not arguing with you there.” jaebum shoots a pointed look to the dark circles under brian’s eyes. “you alright man?”

 

_ no _ , brian wants to say.  _ i think i’m hallucinating _ . all he does is slump down, head hitting the counter with a dull thud that reminds him of the boy on the train, reminds him of the beginning of his favourite song. “fine,” is what he settles for. maybe he just needs to sleep. “i’m fine.” 

 

jaebum doesn’t reply but, for what it’s worth, looks like he believes him. 

 

that’s nice. brian was always good at lying to himself, after all. and that’s alway the first step when it comes to lying to everyone else.

  
  


*

  
  


the next day, the same day, brian wakes up to see a bold red july, wednesday 24th blinking back at him from the screen of his phone. 

 

he stares until his visions swims in twos and fours, fours and twos, bleeds red. the thought of everyday grows heaviest inside his mind, a physical weight that pushes him down down down against his bed, presses up on his lungs and makes his head rattle.

 

he turns, exhales, says in the same breath to no one but empty air, “okay okay.”

 

so this is how it goes.  

  
  


*

  
  


because brian has run by the same new-old routine for two years and counting, he waits the fifteen minutes it takes for train line 6 to reach his station and climbs inside the creaky wagon when it does. 

 

1/2 of him thinks he’s still part-dreaming, the other 1/2 is mostly stuck thinking  _ this is wrong this is wrong this is again  _ but as whole? he’s far too distracted to notice the same boy from yesterday today slide past the door just a few seconds before it shuts. it’s only when the train stops and the lights flicker and the now familiar, awful voice begins its everyday speech of  _ the train is currently experiencing some technical troubles  _ and so on so forth that he becomes aware enough to realize what the other boy is saying. 

 

“-fucking hell. not  _ again _ .”

 

and “oh,” brian breathes, thinks  _ maybe,  _ hopes _ please.  _ the lights of the underground blur by when the train starts to move again and it’s at the crossroads that brian meets the stranger’s dark bright eyes and knows. 

  
  


*

  
  


“so you’re stuck too, huh?”

 

“yeah,” brian fiddles with his sleeves, steals a glance at the not-stranger - jaehyung, he had introduced himself when brian came up to him, then said, just jae though, and later still, i think we’re fucked, to which brian had nodded and slumped down on the seat next to his; answer enough. “today’s wednesday but...“

 

“but yesterday was wednesday too,” jae finishes for him and sighs a heavy sound. “yeah, i know.”

 

“do you know what’s going on?”

 

“dunno,” he shrugs. “i thought i was drunk at first, yesterday. today, i mean - whatever.” he huffs out a quiet laugh, smiles just a quick uptick of his lips that looks honestly less amused and more wry than it was probably intended to be. “then i thought i was high but it’s not that either. now i’m thinking i probably died on this fucking train and now i’m stuck on some sort of shitty limbo, i don’t know.”

 

“i don’t think we’re dead,” brian answers because this whole time loop thing feels realer than it has any right to be. 

 

“beats me,” jae shrugs. “at least we’re not alone.” 

 

“yeah,” brian sighs, thinks of two hands folding together and the weight of a palm against his, says, “at least we’re not alone.” 

  
  


*

  
  


they spend the day together because there’s no reason not. (that’s what brian tells himself at least, knows however that he has a few reasons himself, but those are better kept quiet, for now.) as jae is quick to point out, they seem to be the only two people aware of the wednesday-replay situation, so when the train pulls up to their station they stay seated and let the train carry them further down the line and deeper into the city. 

 

jae takes out his guitar somewhere in between brian shuffling closer and a self-important suit climbing in. the man curls his lip at the sight of them both and mutters something probably meant to be demeaning back at them. all jae does is laugh; bare fingers over steel strings. 

 

“you play?” he asks when he catches brian staring at the cherry wood of his guitar, faded and worn down. used, which means also loved, also a comfort, if the way jae keep clutching at it tightly is any proof.

 

brian shakes his head no, then nods yes, says, “i used to,” because that’s not a lie, even if it’s not the full truth either. 

 

jae hums, asks again, “do you sing?”

 

brian swallows back all of his unsaid words, and some of that hesitancy must bleed through because jae stops strumming and says as gentle as his song, that one that had been about to steal through the air, “you don’t have to answer now. i was just asking.”

 

brian opens his mouth to say - something, anything, but then jae begins singing and his voice is quiet but present all the same. he sings like playing brian thinks, like hide and seek. sounds like someone saying  _ tag, you’re it.   _

 

the suit standing by the back of the wagon walks briskly past them when the train pulls up to the platform. he tosses them a few coins on their way, dismissive in the way only half men full ambition can be. brian watches the coins cling their way down into jae’s guitar case and feels the knot around his throat pull tighter still. 

 

“what now?” brian asks because they had been heading nowhere but even nowhere has to end; this is the last stop on the line. there’s not much left to do but get out.

 

jae seems to have the same idea because he reaches down to scoop the coins up, says, “how about you let me buy you some coffee?” and smiles something shaped like a start.

  
  


*

 

they end up at a café near hongdae. when jae asks him in between sips of too much sugar and not enough coffee if he has anywhere else he needs to be brian tells him about closed doors and too stern professors. 

 

doesn’t tell him that even if those doors were open, he would have stayed.

  
  


*

  
  


when the coffee's done (jae) and cold (brian), jae turns to him and asks, “hey, mind coming with me to work?” 

 

“you work?” brian asks back and holds the café’s door open for jae to walk through. 

 

a scowl. “what? do i not look like i can hold a job to you?”

 

brian chances a look. jae’s wearing a red flannel shirt scattered through with holes. the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the hem tucked into wash-faded black jeans. his guitar hangs from his right shoulder, his blonde hair swept through from the wind. he cracks a smile. “i’m kidding, man. i work as a dj for a radio show. don’t exactly need to look presentable when no one’s going to be watching you.” 

 

“oh,” brian says, then remembers he was asked a question and adds, “sure, yeah. let’s go.” 

 

he’s supposed to work the late afternoon shift at the corner store but if things continue as they have, then tomorrow the same day will start all over again and the owner will never know brian skipped a shift. and yeah, knowing his luck, maybe time will right itself and tomorrow the date will read thursday instead of wednesday and brian will be in deep shit, jobless too, but looking at jae here and now brian thinks he’ll take his chances. 

 

it takes jae pointing out the building to him for brian to recognize it’s a studio. tucked in between a bookstore and a gym, it looks more like an apartment complex than an office building. then again, looking at jae, brian think it fits just right.

 

“they hired me part-time for the semester,” jae explains as they enter the foyer and turn left down a dim-lit corridor. “it doesn’t pay much but it’s a good opportunity and i’m hoping the big boss will give me my own section someday.”

 

“is that what you wanna do? radio mc-ing?”

 

“well, yeah,” jae shrugs. “for now at least. i’m studying polisci actually, but my minor is music production, so.”

 

“political science,” brian echoes. “... and music? how does that even work?”

 

jae shrugs, laughs when he turns and sees brian’s expression. curious, confused. jealous, maybe. “why wouldn’t it?” he asks in return and opens the door to the recording studio like that’s answer enough. 

 

“you’re late,” a voice calls out the moment they step inside. “you’re never late.”

 

“sorry.” jae shuffles on his feet, glances quick at brian before answering, “i lost track of time. also i, uh, i brought a guest.”

 

the chair facing the door turns to show a man, a pair of  headphones around his neck and a disbelieving look on his face. “you never bring anyone-” he stops, looks at brian. or, maybe, at the too-shirt space between him and jae. “oh, i see. and you are?”

 

“this is brian,” jae introduces at the same time brian gets out a hesitant  _ hi.  _ “he’s here to watch. play nice.” 

 

“i’m always nice,” the man replies, then stands up to offer brian a firm handshake, “i’m bernad, nice to meet you.”

 

“you too.” brian takes a seat when offered. there’s a table in the middle of the padded room, four or five mics ready to go scattered around. brian sits facing jae and watches him fiddle with the equipment until the mic blinks on.   

 

“you go to uni with this guy?” bernard asks. “he’s never mentioned you before.”

 

“we just met, actually.”

 

“is that so,” bernard hums, looks from brian to jae, who grins back at him from where he’s speaking into the mic, testing. “i see,” he says and brian flushes, something about bernard’s tone, the knowing look on his face, making him flustered. 

 

“yo,” jae cuts in, slipping his headphones over his head, blonde bangs pushed back to show his forehead. “you ready?”

 

“yeah,” bernard replies, stops looking at brian to turn his mic on and begins, “hello and welcome to music access-”

 

brian feels awkward at first, doesn’t know where to look, what to do, if he should even be there at all, but jae and bernard have an easy companionship and their light banter makes him laugh, lets him relax. bit by bit, song by song.

 

they play the hits of the moment, k-pop mostly. because they have to meet a quota, jae explains to him, one hand covering the mic so it won’t broadcast what he’s saying, the other holding his headphones still. they slip in some more alternatives songs when they can, some western music too, and brian finds he likes jae’s taste a lot, likes it even more how he mouths along to the words and bops his head to the rhythm when the beat of a song is particularly catchy. 

 

it’s been a long time since brian’s been around music - a long time since he’s let himself. schoolwork takes up most of his time as it is and brian knows if he were to give in and take his old guitar out from under his bed where he stuffed it back in freshman year, back when he became too afraid of the dream he never outgrew, i’d be too much of a draw. too much of a temptation. 

 

brian wasn’t lying when he said he was content - business administration is not music but it’s not the worst either. it’s routine. it works, but it took him a long time get to that point, took him even longer to learn how to quiet down that half-beat itch of all the song he never wrote. and brian knows that  _ staying content _ hangs from a precarious thread that something like  _ this _ \- letting himself be near a song and feel the words unwritten stain like ink over his thoughts -  _ this _ could very well become the scissors that finally cut that thread loose. 

 

brian blinks when jae shoots him a smile. there’s a q&a section halfway through the show and the fans are calling to give their opinion on a question jae asked at the beginning of the broadcast, a question brian hadn’t heard because he’d been too busy watching the way jae’s lips formed words shaped like hopes shaped like lyrics and what-ifs.

 

“-and my mom says dancing is no good. it’s better if i just settled for a teaching job or something,” a girl is saying, voice scratchy but still notably grey-sad through the broadcast connection. 

 

“look,” jae begins, “saying you have a dream is a dangerous thing, but that’s only because dream is a dangerous word. set yourself goals, work hard, and soon enough you’ll be where you want to be.” 

 

“well said, jae,” bernard buts in before jae can get too off topic and thanks the girl for calling before cutting to a break. when the mics are off, he turns to brian. “so, how do you like the show so far?”

 

“it’s good,” brian answers and, if he looks at jae when he says so, bernard is polite enough not to mention it. 

  
  


*

  
  


it’s sometime past nine when they get to train station. the night is an almost-black and it spills like ink all over the city, colors the world black down the streets and stains between the one two three steps that separate them both. 

 

“i’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?” brian asks for a lack of anything better to say, shifts on his feet when jae tilts his head to look at him better under the city lights and answers, “if tomorrow comes.” 

 

he seems amused. brian wonders if it has anything to do with the knowledge that when tomorrow becomes a variable, them together is the only certainty time will yield. 

  
  


*

  
  


they make a routine out of it. 

 

normally, usually, brian hates routines. he’s been living by them for so long and he’s grown tired, so tired. his life is a series of sunsets and sunrises that all feel the same and bring nothing new, just the same old schedule of: go to class, go to work, eat, sleep. lather rinse repeat. 

 

and it’s funny really, in the way small-big realizations often are. it feels like slotting the last puzzle piece, but now that’s he’s actually living and reliving the same day again again again, he feels more alive than he ever did when his weeks had seven days. 

 

they meet at the station the next same day. jae smiles and raises an arm in greeting when he sees brian walking down the steps towards the platform. he’s still got his guitar strapped to his back but his flannel is blue this time around and when brian asks him about it all jae does is laugh and say, “just because things don’t chance doesn’t mean they have to stay the same.”

 

which, really, makes no sense at all. 

 

“of course it does,” jae laughs when brian tells him so. “you’ll see. i’ll show you.” 

 

means this:

 

every same day they do something different. sometimes they go to jae’s work and loiter around after hours. when the broadcast is over they sit with their backs to the speakers, plug in their phones, and play each other their favorite songs. 

 

(“- you need to listen to the lyrics closely, they really mean something. you can’t deny that.” “they’re singing about horseshoe crabs, hyung” “that’s how  _ metaphors work _ , brian.”)

 

sometimes they ride train line 6 until it stops and then switch lines and switch again. jae grabs a map of the underground meant for tourists, tells brian: pick a color and so they wander. going nowhere isn’t as bad when your somewhere becomes the company that you’re with. 

 

sometimes jae blows off his job and brian says fuck it to school; they spent the day losing themselves in the city, doing all the things they never had the time to do.  _ i haven’t been to a noraebang in ages _ , jae says the fifth loop, so they go to the noreabang and brian sings an awful rendition of twice’s like ohh ahh while jae does some knoff-off macarena move in the background that’s supposed to be the choreo.  _ i’ve always wanted to see the demilitarized zone,  _ he says another and so they shuffle in with the tourists and waste the day away snapping picture of each other that get erased the day after when the clock strikes twelve and time resets itself again again again. 

  
  


*

  
  


“you know, it’s funny,” jae mumbles around a mouthful of shrimp chips he nicked from the bag brian had been reshelving. it’s one of the odd days when brian actually shows up to work. jae denies it, but brian knows he likes watching brian at his job, though maybe that has more to do with all the snacks he pilfers. 

 

“what is?”

 

“this,” jae gestures around to the space between them both. “you, me -  _ us. _ we barely know each other but it feels like i’ve known you for days. years, even.” 

 

“day,” brian corrects, feels himself grin. “you’ve known me for a day exactly. just the one.”

 

“don’t get sassy with me,” jae says but he’s laughing, wide and open, and his tone is as far from biting as it can be. “you know what i mean. it’s been like, what? twenty loops? twenty five? and i still don’t know shit about you. like, what’s your favorite color? do you have siblings? and why the fuck do you have a canadian accent when you speak english?” 

 

“i don’t know much about you either,” brian says back and looks up just in time to greet the old grandma who just entered the store. there’s no jaebum today because brian learnt from that one loop where he forgot to text him and the other came looking for him only the chew him out in front of jae, which was embarrassing to say the least. now brian makes sure to text jaebum as soon as he wake up and feeds him the same-old excuse of _woke up_ _sick. see you tomorrow._

 

“but you do,” jae answers, leaning against the shelve and making the cups of pre-packaged ramen shake and threaten to topple over. with a frown, brian grabs him by the elbow and stirs him away. “you know i have a sister. that i have a killer music taste. that i’m allergic to dogs. you’ve heard me sing. you know lots about me but to me you’re like - an oyster or some shit. whatever else is hard to crack open.”

 

“i’m... sorry?” brian says, though it comes out sounding more like a question. it’s not like he does it on purpose - he’s never been prone to sharing and jae seems happy enough to fill his silence with small details that brian now realizes make up the bigger picture. the jae picture. he sees now how that could have seemed unfair.

 

“i’m not - i’m not judging or whatever,” jae says, ducks his head down so his bangs fall over the rim of his glasses - he only needs them to read but he likes wearing them anyways; he thinks his eyes are too small for his face, brian knows because jae told him and okay, he can see where jae is coming from. “just thought i’d say something.”

 

“no, yeah. i get it,” brian answers, swallows like he wants to say something else but - doesn’t, in the end, and goes back to reshelving bags of chips. 

  
  


*

  
  


(“blue,” brian tells him another same day, a couple of todays later when they are waiting for the train to start back on its way after the lights have flickered on. “my favorite color is blue. i don’t have any siblings but i wish i did sometimes because it gets lonely with my parents back in canada and there’s no one home when i get back. i have an accent because i went to high school in canada for four years even though my parents were in korea and that’s so  _ stupid _ because now that i’m back here they’re  _ not _ and that - that makes me mad sometimes. mostly though, it just makes me sad.”

 

the train rattles as it crawls forward. in the darkness of the underground, two hands fold together. brian swallows, thinks: okay okay. 

 

so this is how it goes.)

  
  


*

  
  


“what do you think would happen if we just - didn’t get on the train?”

 

brian blinks away from the book he had been rifling through and looks down at jae. they’re in a corner of ATOM - a half bookstore half record shop run by a man named sungjin. they found it a few loops ago, when they were walking nowhere and heard music play, turned towards it like the sea turns towards the moon. 

 

after a few loops of trial and error, they’ve learnt how to win sungjin over into letting them have this: jae, sitting down on the carpeted floor with his back against the self-help shelve, humming songs he doesn’t know the melodies to yet. and brian, with his nose in a book and his mind on the boy beside him. 

 

“i don’t know,” brian answers. jae hums, turns a page. he’s reading the little prince, has been working through it for a few loops now. the cover of the book has one of the original drawings printed on it, a blonde boy in green clothes and a world of yellow-bright stars around him. when jae had picked the book up for the first time brian couldn’t help but say, you look a lot like him. jae had smiled, turned to a page with a picture of a fox and said back, so do you.

 

“but it’s because of it that this is happening right? i mean, it’s pretty obvious.”

 

and brian’s not stupid, he knows it’s because of the train -  _ of course _ he knows it’s because of the train. they are the only two people inside the wagon when the lights go out and the train stops, they’re the only ones who remember all the wednesdays that came before. a to b, the jump isn’t hard to make. mind you, brian doesn't know how it happens, nevermind why it does - he’s not sure if he really cares, at this point.

 

“well, yeah.”

 

“if i - if we didn’t get in the train, would the loop break?”

 

would it? brian hasn’t given it much thought but time is a funny thing - this he knows. if the loop were to break, would they go back to the first wednesday? or would they just - keep on turning?

 

“why are you asking?” brian can’t help but draw back, defensive. “do you want it to break?”

 

jae blinks at him. “don’t you?”

 

“i-”

 

“hey, sorry to interrupt but i’m about to close up.” both of them turn at the sound of sungjin’s voice. the man is watching them amusedly, a set of keys dangling from his fingers. 

 

“sorry,” brian apologizes, helping jae up to his feet. two hands folding together. brian swallows, thinks, don’t you?

 

“you can always come by tomorrow,” sungjin says as he ushers them out of the door and into the nightlit street. tomorrow, like it’s so easy for time to keep on turning.

 

“we will,” jae agrees, smiles and waves goodbye. brian follows after, thinks all the while,

 

don’t you?

  
  


*

  
  


what brian didn’t get to say: it’s not that i don’t want the loop to break it’s that i’m afraid of what’ll happen if it does because god knows if we’ll remember all our everydays and if we don’t then that means losing.

 

and losing means losing you. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


the next same day brian is half afraid jae won’t show up at the station. he does, in the end, and brian hopes it’s because of him, because of _them_ and the maybe that they’re standing on. brian isn’t stupid, he’s seen how jae’s eyes tend to linger, has seen the other turn fond when he thinks brian isn’t looking. jae’s fingers find a home in between brian’s own more often than not and brian - hopes. 

  
  


*

  
  


time passes but doesn’t turn. 

 

“ _ the train is currently experiencing some technical troubles. we apologize for the delay. we’ll resume course in a few minutes. please remain seated. _ ”

 

again again again. 

  
  


*

  
  


“i wrote you a song.”

 

brian blinks at jae then blinks again because the smile he’s giving him is brighter than the screen of his phone where brian had been looking up how many hours it takes to get from central seoul down to the nearest shoreline. more importantly: if they could make it in less than 24. 

 

“you wrote me a song,” brian repeats after him but the words sound off in his mouth. “why?”

 

“well,” jae shrugs in that careful way he has when he means something more than what he’s about to say. “you said you didn’t like singing the ones you used to play before so i figured a new one was my best shot at getting you to sing again.” 

 

and brian does remember making an off-comment, some odd loops ago, about how playing the songs he used to made him sick because it only reminded him of all the times he hadn’t been let his voice ring clear. but he hadn’t thought jae would remember, hadn't thought -

 

“here,” jae slips him a pair of earphones and puts an old ipod on his hands; cuts his thoughts off right there. “you better show me some appreciation because this shit was tough to pull off. do you know how hard it is to make a song when you can't write it down because it’ll just  _ disappear  _ the day after? i had to keep it all here,” he touches a finger up to his temple, then lets it drop down to his heart. “i think i got it right this time. don’t judge it too hard, though, ‘cause i had to record it in like, three hours so-”

 

“hyung,” brian cuts him off, slips his hand inside jae’s and pulls him closer. “it’s okay.” 

 

“it’s supposed to be better than okay, christ, didn’t you just here what i just said?”

 

brian laughs - and if it sounds a bit choked, then jae either doesn’t notice or understands enough to let him feel. 

  
  


*

  
  


the song is a song but it’s also a confession. brian plays it when he’s alone in his room and spends the night learning the chords by heart by mind by soul so he won’t have an excuse not to dust off his old guitar and all its old regrets. he plays it over and over until his fingertips ache from the strings and his voice is hoarse from singing-crying and singing-laughing. learns again what it feels to sing and sing to feel. 

 

come midnight dark the song disappears from the ipod but brian remembers every note and every silence like he remembers every loop.

 

remembers most of all one phrase from the second verse that means more than its four words can say. 

  
  


*

 

the phrase? 

 

it goes something like this: _ you are my day you are my day you are my day you are my day you are my day you are my day  _

  
  


*

  
  


there is one particular loop that stands out the most - not because it’s anything special, even less so anything other, but brian still thinks it something. 

 

they are deciding which movie to see next. the girl at the cash register is disbelieving and, to be fair, this  _ is _ the third time in a row that they're buying tickets. jae seems torn between a special showing of wender’s  _ wings of desire _ and train to busan. 

 

“we can always see them both,” brian tells him because one of the more convenient oddities about the loops is that spending money isn’t really spending when every won you pay tomorrow brings back to you as good as new. 

 

jae blinks. “you’re right,” smiles, and buys the tickets. 

 

and it’s when the credits are rolling and bono is singing about hitting the ground with a clatter and the night being enough that brian turns and watches the shadow of an angel’s wing tint jae’s face in shades of dark, it’s then he realizes that time wasted and time spent have only one thing keeping them apart and that one thing is a boy with too-bright eyes and a guitar slung over a bony shoulder and song for a heart. 

  
  
  


*

  
  


some todays, most todays, brian wants to tell him, wants to lean in and lean close, kiss the smile away from jae’s lips. he doesn’t, in the end. he isn’t sure what this means to jae, if this bracket of cutaway time they’ve fallen into is nothing more than a respite from the drag of life or if it’s something more, something other. 

 

they don’t talk about it, never mention breaking the loop again, and brian? brian hopes because-

  
  


*

  
  


“you can do it, man. it’s not like i'll be permanent either way.” 

 

“fuck,” brian wheezes as he takes a seat on the chair and rolls his sleeve up. the tattoo artist - a gruff looking man who told them he didn’t really do walk-in appointments but was eventually won over - barks out a laugh at that, like he’s in on the joke. 

 

“just do it,” brian clenches his teeth when he feels the needle sink into the skin of his wrist, tracing the letters of the phrase he chose, the only one he could ever choose. to his side, jae laughs a song and grips his hand tighter like it means something more than two sets of fives becoming ten and brian  _ hopes  _ because-

  
  


*

  
  


“but what if i don’t like it?” brian asks. he’s so scared it’s hard to breath and all he feels is his heart beating beating beating against his ribcage like it wants to get out. “what if it turns out staying in business was the better choice, the  _ right _ choice? what if music isn’t-”

 

“hey.” jae stops him, fingers soft on the curve of his jaw as he tilts brian’s head so he can look him in the eye and be certain brian’s listening when he asks, “do you want this?”

 

“yes,” brian chokes out, grips the major transfer papers in his hand so tight his knuckles turn white and he knows it’s only for today, knows that when midnight comes he’ll never have made this decision but - “always.” and he doesn’t know what he’s saying yes to: jae or the music. both maybe, because they seem to be the same risk, because what is falling in love with the song if not falling in love with the singer.

 

“then that’s worth all the what-ifs,” jae says and god, brian hopes he’s right,  _ hopes _ because-

  
  
  


*

  
  


“we should come here more often.” the sea pushes at the shore. brian tastes salt on his tongue and the heavy weight of today in the air. jae looks gorgeous sitting on the hood of the car they rented, the one they drove all the way down to the sea because they have nothing if not time, nothing if not each other, and brian thinks: maybe i made him up. maybe, because jae is both a facture-like piece of reality and the only thing brian is certain of when time pushes at the shores and pulls back again again again. 

 

words like  _ love _ and  _ i _ and  _ you _ are better left unsaid but brian hopes so much he’s stringing them together in the same inevitable way rain hits earth before he can stop himself, saying, “i think i’m in love with you,” and it’s just seconds before midnight strikes and time resets itself when jae turns to look at him and says-

  
  


*

 

the next same day brian waits at the station, fingers tight against the hem of his shirt. the train pulls up to the platform and jae’s still not here but brian hopes. midnight may have won the last loop but they have nothing if not time. he shuffles into the wagon, stays close to the door because jae’s still hasn’t come and he doesn’t want to miss him. 

 

“brian!” 

 

jae is running running running. below his feet brian feels the train start to whirr and jae is running running running but the doors are closing and jae is late and running running running. 

 

the doors slide shut with jae on the other side of them. brian’s breath catches on his throat because he knows it’s only a matter of time before the train starts moving and oh, it’s going to take so much with it when it’s gone. 

 

“brian,” jae presses up a hand to the glass door, looks afraid. looks - “sorry,” he chokes out. “i forgot my guitar and i - i wanted to sing with you so i went back to get it and now,” the train rattles, the lights flicker. “now i’m late.” 

 

“jae, i-”

 

“i know,” jae says. “i think i’m in-”

  
  


*

  
  


today, train line 6 is late. 

 

brian huffs out a sigh and leans against the platform wall. thursday means class starts at 9:30 and he’s going to be late if the train doesn’t show up now. it’s not like he likes his marketing lecture but business administration is what it is and brian has learnt how to deal. 

 

when the train (finally) screeches to a stop nineteen minutes after it should’ve, brian climbs in with the same bitter aftertaste of everyday and all the other days to come. 

 

shuffle hits maroon 5 and it’s halfway through the song that another boy comes stumbling into the wagon. he’s got a guitar slung over a bony shoulder and too-bright eyes that are looking right back at him. 

 

“hey,” the boy says and his voice sounds like playing. 

 

“hey,” brian answers and the train starts to move. 

**Author's Note:**

> the loop breaks. today becomes tomorrow. i made a [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/ttamarrindo) and i'm always on [ tumblr](https://jahehyung.tumblr.com/) if anyone has any questions bc i know this can get a little confusing;; sorry!


End file.
